


sleepless nights screaming ‘it’s not fair!’

by atlas_oulast



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Squip, Angst & Tragedy, Constructed Reality, F/F, Friends With Benefits, Guns, Heavy Angst, Insanity, Murder, Revenge, Unrequited Love, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 11:45:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18222722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlas_oulast/pseuds/atlas_oulast
Summary: After everything is said and done, Chloe wants what she believes to be rightfully hers.





	sleepless nights screaming ‘it’s not fair!’

**Author's Note:**

> death, shooting, guns, murder, insanity, and mentions of sex for your trigger warnings
> 
> title from funeral by lauren marcus

Chloe had been in an endless state of anger since she’d heard.

She wanted to scream and throw things and break her nails and paint her face with nail polish.

Brooke was dead. About to be buried six feet deep and then gone forever.

Her beautiful Brooke. A bit annoying at times, entirely too sweet, obsessed with being girly and pretty, girl of summertime popsicles and soft blonde hair that she wanted to floof forever.

Christine had had the _kindness_ (saying that about _Christine_ made clench her hands and want to claw up that bitch’s face) to invite her to both the wake and the funeral.

She almost wanted to not show up, just as to not give Christine the satisfaction of her showing up, not as Brooke’s dearest now left in pieces by her sudden death, but just as Chloe, her former friend.

Madeline held the invitation up to the light with her fingernails, even longer than Chloe’s glanced at the paper, and then shrugged, having it back.

”I have  _un_ _événement_ that day, but you may go,  _ma_ _chérie_. It is the Parker man’s third wedding.“

Madeline was a wedding planner, a very successful one, making fair amounts of money even in the tough industry. Enough to support Chloe if she decided to quit her job and follow her dreams, but once Brooke had left her, she knew she wouldn’t be able to do it.

She and Madeline weren’t ‘dating’ per se, it was more of a friends with benefits relationship. Both financial and sex benefits. Neither of them could ever actually love each other romantically, so they didn’t pretend to.

Madeline wasn’t after someone else, she just didn’t need someone who actually loved her, she’d repeatedly explained.

Chloe just wanted to make Brooke  want her more.

She retreated into her room and examined the invitation.

A postcard sized piece of thick, sturdy paper, with a simple flower pattern on the margins. Just some thin, vauge vines, and small forget-me-nots.

It had Christine written all over it.

She couldn’t bear to throw it away, and instead framed it with a thin, elegant blue picture frame with a pink ribbon wrapped around the edges and tied in a neat bow at the top.

She picked out a dress, a simple, knee length black number in satin with a high neck, no sleeves. She pulled her hair into a bun, and put on black heels, and perfect makeup.

She drove there in her little Mercedes, no music playing on the way, even though it was forty five minutes there.

She stepped out of the car, heels digging into the asphalt parking lot of the funeral home.

_Smith & Sons Funeral Home_

It was elegant, but small, at least on the outside. She hated it. She hated how everyone else getting out of their cars didn’t look at her.

She wanted to shove them all away forever.

She walked inside, and followed the very obvious sign to the back, where apparently, Brooke was located. The interior decorations were minimal and somber, the walls were grey, and she wanted to throw up.

She walked down a hall, and finally entered the room.

There weren’t _that_ many people here, maybe fifty. She could’ve gotten Brooke a bigger turnout without doing anything if she’d wanted to.

She joined the line to walk up and view Brooke. She spotted Christine, in a longer black dress, with elbow length sleeves and a simple gold necklace.

Chloe reached the front of the line.

There was Brooke, looking so small and so lifeless, in a simple but elegant casket. Oak, she figured. 

Brooke was dressed in a short sleeved lavender dress, with a somewhat puffy skirt, that ran just past her knees. Her legs were bare, her feet had white sandals. Her hair, beautiful blonde hair, was in a crown braid, beautiful and queenly. Her green eyes were closed and she hated it, she hated it so much.

Brooke loved that purple dress to bits. She wore it to every wedding, every spring and summer gathering, and sometimes when she wasn’t even going anywhere, just wanted to feel pretty in the pretty dress.

It was too perfect and Chloe wanted to kill someone.

She walked quietly up to Christine and the few people clustered around her.

”Hello, Chloe,” Christine said, respectfully quiet but loud enough to be heard, casting a weak look at her. She hadn’t even bothered to clean up her (probably fake) red eyes for the viewing.

And she was wearing Brooke’s gold necklace.

A simple, thin gold chain, and a simple, tiny flower charm of pink sapphire. No resale value, not particularly fancy, it would seem to be just a necklace to anyone else.

But Chloe wasn’t anyone else.

She began to quake with fury.

She reached out and yanked the necklace from her neck.

-

Christine was a mess.

It had been too sudden. One minute Brooke had been with her and the last she heard from her was a text.

_Brooke (11:26 AM): christine I love you. i love you so much don’t you ever forget it._

There had been a shooting at Brooke’s work. One dead, nineteen wounded. The gunman had run away and there was a manhunt still going on.

So the only fatality was Brooke.

Her dear sweet Brooke. Brooke, giver of sweet kisses and gentle squeezes, the girl of the spring, constantly happy and bright and beautiful.

Brooke made her want to live forever. She’d give up on all her dreams just to live with this girl of forget-me-nots and gentle, warm spring rain. 

And then in an instant, she was gone.

Jenna and Jeremy had given support, so much love, but it would never be like Brooke’s constant, sweet love that she craved like chocolate and cupcakes.

She kept bursting into tears at random. 

Brooke had been everything to her. She was happiness, warmth, nights gazing up at stars in her truck bed, her soft lips against Christine’s constantly chapped ones, their fingers slotting together perfectly in the spaces.

They told each other that they would die an old, sweet couple, still deeply in love after all these years. They’d die within a week of each other, and the one who died last wouldn’t spare tears for the other, because they’d be together soon. They’d only cry for the children and grandchildren and friends they’d leave behind.

And here Brooke was, asleep at age twenty seven, not ninety seven. She’d died with a ring in her pocket. A beautiful set, diamond and silver, perfect for Christine. And they would’ve been perfect, locked together forever.

She’d invited Chloe. She deserved to come, she had been Brooke’s best friend until Chloe had cut her off when Brooke was twenty three. Neither knew why, and Brooke cried, saying that she didn’t know why Chloe, her best friend, would do that. Why was Chloe so bitter and mean?

Christine invited her not with the intention of finally finding out, but with the intention of making sure Chloe could see her best friend one last time.

Chloe had entered a good fifteen minutes into the viewing, hands clenched in fists at her sides, standing in line between Brooke’s coworker, Tanya, who’d been there when she’d died, and Eric, Tanya’s nephew.

She’d waited patiently, but cast dirty looks at the back of Tanya’s head, and Christine also caught her glaring at her at one point.

Her face wasn’t pity, or sadness, mourning, even happiness, or acceptance. Her face was hot fury just waiting to boil over.

She reached Brooke’s casket. Christine had dressed her in her favourite dress, the lavender number with the twirly skirt. She was always beautiful, but in the dress she was radiant and happy, twirling around and giggling, sharing laughs with the bridesmaids or the caterer at the gathering or wherever she wore it.

There was never any question over what to bury her in. Brooke hadn’t specifically asked for it, but Christine wanted to bury her in happiness. So the purple dress it was.

Chloe stared at Brooke’s body for a few moments, fists growing more clenched every second, and then walked over to where Christine was standing, talking quietly to Brooke’s parents and her siblings. 

“Hello, Chloe,” Christine said quietly. She probably looked like a mess. She hoped Chloe was okay.

Chloe didn’t answer and stared at her for a few long seconds, then lunged at her, and Christine felt the necklace break at the back of her neck and fall, clutched in Chloe’s fist.

The necklace that Brooke had specifically left to her in her will. It was worth nothing, but it was effectively all of Brooke she really had left.

-

Christine had gasped out in surprise and Chloe had... Chloe had smiled sweetly, sickly.

”Chloe, what are you doing?” The necklace was broken. Christine tried to grab it back but Chloe stepped away easily.

”You stole her from me! If not for you she wouldn’t be dead, and she’d be with me!”

”W-what?” Christine was on the brink of tears. “Give me the necklace, please, it’s all I have.”

”No. If you hadn’t asked her out she would still be mine.”

And then Christine understood.

-

Brooke and Chloe hadn’t been dating, per se. They weren’t even living together. They were just a little affectionate, best friends affectionate, though.

It was Valentine’s Day. Chloe had bought a rose and had a plan.

Christine had bought a rose and had a plan.

Brooke had still been in med school at the time, so Christine planned to catch her on her way to the bus stop around one in the afternoon, when she went off campus for lunch. She’d wait at a bench under a weeping willow that draped over the path.

She’d even made brookie bars, arranged them on a heart-shaped paper plate, and frosted the message, “date?” in chocolate frosting on top.

Chloe’s plan was to catch her after lunch, ask if she wanted to go out for dinner, and hand her the rose. They’d go to a place she’d made reservations at, a fancy, upscale place downtown. There, she’d ask Brooke to be her girlfriend.

Brooke had walked up to the weeping willow spot, and gasped when she’d seen Christine. The brookies had been set down on the bench and a kiss was shared.

So when Chloe and Brooke went to dinner, Brooke turned her down.

At least, that was how Chloe remembered it.

-

In Christine’s version of events, Brooke hadn’t even gone out for lunch, she’d studied in the library that day. Christine had missed her and decided to wait until later.

They’d gone out to dinner, Chloe and Brooke, and when Chloe had asked, Brooke had said yes. A kiss had been shared.

It was later that Christine ruined everything.

It was Easter. Brooke went out to lunch with Christine in the lavender dress and a smile, and came back only to pack up, Jenna, Jeremy, and Christine in tow.

Brooke broke up with Chloe, and told her she was done with the abuse and being used. Chloe had screamed at her but Brooke had left.

-

“So who’s telling the truth?” Brooke’s sister asked quietly.

”I remember it how Christine said,” said Jeremy, and Jenna, and Michael, and Rich. Jake wasn’t there.

Jeremy’s dad agreed. Brooke’s parents. Tanya and Eric. 

Chloe smiled as people began to back away from her.

”I killed her.”

She pressed a gun to Christine’s abdomen and fired, pecking a kiss to Christine’s ever-chapped lips.

 

**Author's Note:**

> hey please don’t hate me - i came up with the idea and wrote this on the fly - also im sorry if chloe is ooc 
> 
> some things are up to y’alls interpretation, too, so keep that in mind


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